Page 87 of Revealing Fate

Kal smirked despite his lingering hurt, and Karrick nudged his shoulder.

His mother and father continued their hushed exchange as they made their way along another airy hall, gauzy curtains rippling slightly in a breeze that did nothing to alleviate the oppressive heat. When they finally reached the doorway to the throne room, Meridia and Kallen Kaine had ceased their grousing and fully emanated their titles.

His mother glanced over the graceful curve of her shoulder at him, a wealth of intention in her gaze. Kal dipped his chin a bit stiffly, indicating his understanding. He wasn’t here as the heir to Brightsea. No, he’d assumed the role of his uncle’s page. Part punishment for snooping, part bargain. It was the only way his parents had agreed to let him come. Kal had given his word to go along with the masquerade, and in their family, words carried weight. He’d expected Karrick to goad him about the arrangement, but his uncle had been uncharacteristically sober. If he could rein in his teasing, Kal could do his part as well. So he squared his jaw and stepped to the adjacent wall to wait.

His mother’s dusky blue eyes brightened.

She turned to join her husband. The Lady and Lord of Brightsea, the Bladesinger and the Aegis, stepped into the grand hall to face the King and Queen of Asteros.

Kal lost track of how long he waited and distracted himself by tracing the veins of gold filigree that spiderwebbed through the nearest marble column. After a while, he edged toward the curtained window and peeked through the parting fabric. His parents were in some manner of negotiation with the Asterosian monarchs. Even Karrick, who normally would have quit the meeting by this point, remained completely engrossed in the exchange, his dark face unnaturally severe. It must have something to do with Karrick’s future wife, Kal decided. He only hoped for his uncle’s sake that she didn’t smell like sweat and red dirt, having been born and raised in this hellacious clime.

Kal did his best not to fidget, but the scratching collar of his tunic clung to his neck, and his underarms had grown damp. He never had to stay for meetings this long back home. He felt like a child again, distracted and antsy.

When he’d been younger and began to squirm, Grandfather Magnus would dismiss him to the training yard where he could shift and wrestle with the other trainees in second form, expending his pent-up energy.

Kal hadn’t seen a single person in Asteros in second form. In fact, his parents both expressly forbid him from displaying his. Which was fine. Kal could keep from shifting for another day or so, no problem. He had better control over his impulses than most boys his age.

“May we introduce the Goddess’s Chosen One, Fated Mate to the Primordial Male, Destined Savior of the Shurii People, and our daughter, the Prima of Asteros.” A loud, clear voice rang out.

Kal paused his scratching and glanced up as a young girl in a frilly golden gown was ushered into the room behind the king and queen. She couldn’t have been older than twelve, yet she moved as gracefully as a dancer, holding herself with a quiet maturity that made it difficult to tell her exact age. Kal became suddenly conscious of the stink of body odor clinging to his clothes. The girl’s cheeks were round and pink, chocolate hair coiled in a tight corona about her head. A glittering tiara nestled in the strands. She curtsied low before Kal’s uncle, then flicked wide greenish eyes toward the window where Kal spied. He jerked away from the curtain, concealing himself behind the wall.

Kal swallowed, then glowered. That was supposed to be Uncle Karrick’s wife? Impossible. She was practically a baby! Barely a girl! His parents couldn’t agree to such a thing. They wouldn’t.

Kal risked another peek through the curtain and studied his uncle. Karrick might as well have been hewn from stone. His father’s back was to him, but Kal caught the furrow between his mother’s fair brows. More muted conversation filled the space, but Kal was far enough that he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t stop staring at the little golden girl, thinking how terribly unfair it was that his uncle should be forced to marry a child.

When his parents and Karrick finally quit the throne room, Kal stood beside the column once more. His father nodded, expression unreadable. His mother’s face was smooth, but her eyes held something he couldn’t place. He followed them back toward their assigned quarters.

Kal was suddenly very tired. He missed Devereux and Ophelia, climbing the Whiteshore Cliffs, hunting for sea urchins in the shallow coves, training with his sword, and his horse. He missed the morning chill, the smell of ocean air, and the crying gulls. He missed home.

Finally, they reached their chambers. Karrick, still silent, turned down the adjacent hall that led to their shared room. Kal paused.

“Mo—er, My Lady?”

The Lady of Brightsea looked down at her son and smiled. Something in her eyes seemed sad. Or scared. Kal didn’t like that. Meridia Albright wasn’t scared of anything.

“When are we going home?”

“Tomorrow, darling,” she promised, squeezing his hand. “Tomorrow we’re all going home.”

But they didn’t go home. None of them. Kal’s mother and father had been murdered in their bedchamber that night. Slaughtered in their sleep.

Kal woke to rough hands grabbing him. He kicked out in a panic, tangling himself in his sheets, and fell out of bed, cracking his head on the side table. But it had been Karrick’s hands hauling him up, Karrick’s hushed voice urging him to be silent. Kal knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. He only followed in a daze, blood dripping from his temple, as his uncle dragged him down shadowy, winding corridors in the dead of night. The scent of iron clung to Karrick, hanging thick in the air. It frightened him.

“Where are we⁠—”

His uncle hushed him with a hand over his mouth and pulled him into an alcove, cloaking them in darkness. Two of the faceless, black-clad guards whispered past toward his family’s chambers.

They stepped back into the hall and hurried in the opposite direction. Kal was breathless by the time Karrick shoved him through another doorway into an empty room. He rounded on his uncle. “What the hell, Karrick? What’s going on?”

But his uncle did not answer. He only paced the confines of the room, fisting his hands, his footfalls and ragged breathing the solitary sounds in the stillness. Karrick’s already dark eyes were full black, the pupils dilated. He twitched at every minute creak or sigh of the villa’s walls. Kal had been about to demand an answer when a woman entered the room. The pretty servant. The one that Kal saw Karrick sneak away with on their first night in Asteros.

Karrick and the woman shared a look, and whatever passed between them made Kal’s insides go cold.

“We must hurry,” the woman said, reaching for Kal’s hand.

Kal pulled away and found his uncle suddenly close. Karrick gripped the back of Kal’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. Dread curdled the contents of Kal’s stomach.

“Whatever you do, whatever you hear, do not come back to this place,” Karrick said. “You get out. You go home.”